Sixteen And Armed
by TabithaHallows
Summary: Lucy Heartfilia has just turned sixteen and is now met with a barrage of handsy men vying for her hand. Far from a perfect night but ending with an interesting conversation.


Lucy's face hurt from all the polite smiling. Her neck hurt from the weight of her hair ornaments and her feet hurt from all the dancing. And, most importantly, a fact not to be excluded under any circumstances, her head hurt from all the bullshit.

Tonight was the party thrown for her sixteenth birthday but she would have preferred to be anywhere else. It was a lavish, extravagant affair to be sure but it was far from what she wanted. Of course, what she wanted didn't matter. Her father was very wealthy and influential. It wasn't a matter of what she wanted so much as a matter of what was expected of them both. Because, naturally, as a daughter, what both she and her father wanted must have been mutually exclusive as well as virtually the same as what was expected.

She could feel the judgemental and sometimes pitying eyes of women burning into her flesh and the roaming eyes of men. She hadn't even been allowed to chose her own dress as if she hadn't been going to events like this for years and couldn't dress herself appropriately. Lucy was usually very confident in the way she looked but tonight she just felt like a doll on a display to be sold to the highest bidder. That wasn't entirely incorrect.

Lucy's mother had died when she was young and had left behind a letter for her only child. She promised she would always be with her, promised that she loved her so dearly. She had high hopes for her beloved daughter and said many kind things that had gotten Lucy through more than one tough night since her mothers passing, but there was one glaring issue with the precious letter. That single sentence, twenty-two lines from the top, eighteen from the bottom.

'My dear, I know it's far from now but I hope you meet someone who will make up happy, someone who will make you smile until the last of your days.'

Someone who would make her smile.

Lucy peered around at the room of onlookers, throwing glances at the birthday girl in the white silk dress that made her afraid to eat or drink anything.

She doubted anyone in this room would make her smile, not when they very well knew that she was being paraded around like a prized bull. The dance card hanging from her wrist felt like a brand seared into her skin by her father. Only those he had preapproved would be allowed a slot and in doing so a chance to hold her a little too close and tell her all about their fine estates and livings.

She didn't hear most of what was being said. Her father had told her just to smile prettily and keep her mouth shut. If she couldn't speak she certainly wasn't going to listen.

The man she was currently dancing with, hadn't shut up from the very second he had approached her. Lucy doubted she could have gotten a word in if she'd even wanted to. He was at least a two decades her senior and thankfully, not the handsy type. In that respect, he was bearable. All she had to do was smile and nod occasionally.

She let him lead her with the kind of grace her father would approve of. She had to, she could hardly hear the music over the screaming in her head.

When the dance ended, she was actually a little sad to see him go. His incessant chatter she could tune out, invading hands she could not. She wasn't always so lucky.

"My dear lady, you look absolutely stunning. Shall we?" A new man was bowing before her, even older than the last and wearing far too much cologne. It made her head spin as she took his offered hand.

She recalled his mustache because it looked like her fathers. They'd been introduced sometime earlier. What was his name? Collin? Conrad? Something starting with a 'c' she was sure.

They bowed to one another as the next song started and he immediately gripped her hand again and pulled her flush against him.

Perfect. He was a handsy one.

She kept her head turned away from him and it proved to be a mistake as he leaned in to whisper into her ear with uncomfortably warm breath.

"My my, you are a beauty."

Lucy nearly choked on the thickness of the scent he wore; creepy old man with tentacles for hands and more money and privilege than one person could ever deserve.

"That dress looks truly divine on you, my dear. The purest of white for the purest of maidens."

Lucy didn't reply. She just tried her best not to physically recoil when she felt his hand dip down from her upper back to her lower, forcing their midsections closer still.

He leaned further down to her. She could feel the hairs of his mustache brush against the shell of her ear.

"Oh, what I would pay to see you in a luscious red. Though you may not have the passion to match it just yet, I could teach you."

Although she couldn't remember his name, other than that it started with a 'c', she had another 'c' word in mind that she thought would do just fine. What she would have done for the luxury of screaming that word and hearing it echo off the marble floors and grand towering pillars.

As he spun her outwards as per the choreography and Lucy's free hand reached up to the left side of the neckline of her dress.

With deft fingers, she detached the large, delicately crafted flower brooch from her dress and squeezed it in her hand. She felt the jewels embed in it and the sizely fastening pin bite into her palm. The reassurance of the pain they could cause.

As he spun her back in, Lucy thrust her palm forwards in the first eager action she had made all night. Their hands met and the perfectly poised pin from her brooch stabbed into the man's hand.

He let out a pained yelp and immediately jumped away. He stared down at the blood pooling the palm of his hand with horror and confusion.

"Oh, my, God!" Lucy exclaimed, tucking her offending hand behind her back. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm- I'm really not very good with blood. Please forgive me but I must excuse myself."

Lucy turned on her heel and rushed for the closest exit. For once her mind screamed in triumph rather than suffering.

The second she stepped out on to the landing she felt as though she was actually breathing again and as she lifted the front of her dress to hurry down the steps into the garden, she felt like she was taking her first full breath in years.

She knew the gardens well and disappeared into them with ease. She breathed and breathed and breathed like she never would again. Given her little stunt, that just might have been true. But her little stunt was a grand conquest and she hoped he scarred badly.

Then she wasn't thinking about her conquest anymore. She was thinking about groping hands and whispered vulgarities. A shiver of disgust ran down her spine. The brooch was still in her hand and she clenched it tightly. Now, she was mad.

The revolting gall, the atrocious audacity of treating a someone like that and in full view of others no less. He had money and power. So did his friends. He could survive it. He was a he. A sixteen-year-old girl screaming molester could not.

Her reputation would be dragged through the mud of rumours and accusations to follow her to her death. She'd be told to get over it and not make such a big deal out of something so small. Told that it was inappropriate to speak of such a thing publicly. Men would see her as a danger to their sickening fun. Women would see her as tainted.

Suddenly she couldn't breathe again.

She now stood at the edge of the sparkling pond. She was furious. Her wrath rippling off her like the moonlight reflecting off the pond. Hot tears burned in her eyes. She truly wanted to be anywhere else.

She let out a choking sob that twisted into a growl. She threw the brooch to the ground and ripped off her heels within enough force that she almost fell. She pulled her arm back and flung them into the pond. She didn't even wait to hear the splash before she was tearing at her hair to be rid of pearls and gems and silver filigree. She threw them too, as far as she could, vision distorted by her own anger and tears.

She let herself fall as another sob racked her body. Her hair fell around her like a curtain to hide her from the world. This world she hated. This world that she was so sure hated her. This world she would have to fight to survive in despite all her privileges.

She remembered the dance card hanging from her wrist filled with preapproved names. His name was there was as well. That was the kind of man her father approved of. The kind of man who could never make her smile.

She tore at that too. Shredding the paper away to nothing but scraps blowing away in the wind.

A glinting in the glass caught her eye and reached for the brooch once more. Her mighty weapon. The sword of her conquest.

She shifted it one way and watched refraction of a single gem with red eyes. It shimmered at her as though praising her victory. In truth, she no longer felt victorious.

Then the shimmering disappeared as a shadow fell over her. Large and imposing. A threat that had dared to follow.

She may have a victory yet.

Brooch balled in her fist once more, anger building again in her stomach, she leapt back to her feet.

She launched herself at this intruder, pin aiming for whatever flesh she could find.

"Woah, there!" The intruded was a tall, blond young man bearing a scar on his face. He grabbed her wrist, halting her attack before it could make its bloody mark.

"Why were you sneaking up on me!" Lucy demanded eyes narrowed into a vicious glare.

"Look, I wasn't sneaking." The man said gruffly, still keeping a large hand firmly on her wrist, though eyeing it cautiously. "I was going to ask if you were okay, I just didn't realize you were going to attack me for it."

Lucy studied him for a moment. He was very distinctive and she had certainly seen his board figure before. He was dressed in the same finery as every other party goer but never had Lucy seen someone look so uncomfortable in it.

"I thought you were someone else." Lucy finally admitted and ripped her hand away with more force than needed as she found no resistance.

She turned her face away from him suddenly remembering that she had been crying and was sure she make up was a complete mess.

She jumped slightly when she saw his hand move and watched him carefully as he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her.

She then turned away from him completely, wiping her eyes and nose on her gloves with post break down abandoned.

He gave a loud a thunderous laugh that made her jump again.

"That's not very ladylike, Miss Heartfilia." He snorted crisply.

"What do you want?" Lucy grumbled, keeping her back to him. She didn't want to be reminded of how much sheer size he had on his side. "The parties inside."

She figured, after almost carving another scar into his face, there was no point in keeping up a polite and polished facade. He certainly didn't seem to mind.

"I know where the damn party is." He scoffed in indelicately. "I'm out here for a reason. Which, by the way, isn't to sneak up on some spoiled little rich girl."

Then she decided his size be damned and threw a dark glare over her shoulder at him.

"Well, I was going to apologize, but now I don't feel so obliged to!"

"Uh-huh." He was standing a few steps further away now, his arms crossed over his chest, not seeming at all convinced. "You use that little pin trick often?"

"Only when I get annoyed." Lucy pursed her lips at him.

She remembered her lipstick and scrubbed that away with her gloves as well.

"I see." He stood back watching her.

Lucy eyed him with a mixture of mistrust and curiosity. Suddenly she recalled his name.

"What?" He asks.

"You're one of the Dreyar's aren't you? The younger one. Laxus?"

"So?"

"You'll get in trouble if you're caught alone with me."

She was right too. This whole situation was extremely inappropriate, practically a scandal. They hadn't even been formally introduced. And the Dreyar's weren't like many of the other party-goers. They weren't old money passed down from generation to generation, they were merchants like Lucy's father. But unlike, Lucy's father, they had a reputation for breaking societal rules and rubbing elbows with the lower classes from whence they came. With so many black marks upon there name as was, this would be the icing on the cake.

"Wouldn't you get in trouble as well?" Said Laxus, arching a thick brow.

"I'm always in trouble." Lucy shrugged.

Through what she meant to say was that her father always thought she wasn't doing as she was told.

"Won't someone be looking for you?"

"They'll look for me when they need to." She just shrugged again.

A cold breeze seemed to materialize out of nowhere. It ran threw her tresses and tossed them over her shoulders. She gave an involuntary and rubbed at her exposed arms.

She didn't see it until it was thrust out in front of her. Laxus's jacket. Dark purple with golden buttons. It lacked the lace trims and brocade that were currently in fashion.

"No. I'm fine." She dropped her hands to prove it. "You need it."

"I'm usually not so generous. Take it." He threw it at her with a grunt.

Lucy caught it and felt the stiffness of the fabric. It was either seldom worn or practically brand new.

Lucy looked down at it and honestly considered just throwing it into the pond. What a face he would make if she did that.

Then another breeze drifted across her skin and she decided to wraps it around herself instead. It swallowed her whole, almost dragging to the ground. She could only imagine how comical she would have looked should she have tried to wear it properly.

There's a long moment in which neither spoke. They simply stood staring out at the pond. Oddly enough and despite being strangers, it wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

Lucy sneaked a glance at Laxus. His scar passed down over one eye, brow to cheek. It was long and jagged in appeared. She wondered what could have possibly made such a scar. A bear? Laxus was certainly big enough to pick a fight with one. Lucy was certain she had never seen a man both so tall and wide. No wonder he had blocked out the light so completely when he appeared.

"You gonna tell me why you were crying?" He suddenly broke the silence.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why ask?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Fucking hell," Laxus swore and both Lucy's brows shot up. She didn't often hear such crass language. "Don't tell me then."

Lucy frowned at him. She was somewhat conflicted because his unfiltered demeanour was somehow charming. It was fresh, it was honest. He had no polite, dotting words for her and she was glad for that as it was all she had heard all night. She had a chance for a real conversation. Not overbearing flattery or thinly veiled attempts at posturing wealth and power. Just a conversation.

Lucy let out a heavy sigh and sunk back on to the ground, crossing her legs and getting comfortable.

"I turned sixteen today but this isn't much of a birthday party. My father expects me to find a good match for my future."

"But you're only sixteen." Laxus frowned at that. "Isn't all this just to introduce you into fancy pants society? Doesn't the husband-hunting come later?"

"Try telling him that." Lucy scowled. "He says just smile pretty and don't talk too much and I'll be fine."

"Demeaning much?" Laxus scoffed loudly.

"I know, right?" Lucy looked up at him. She already thought this was bullcrap but having someone agree with her filled her with new vigour. "I'm mean, he's had me studying business since I could read and he tells me to just smile pretty and keep my mouth shut? He just wants me to marry well so I can be someone else's problem and hopefully get him a heap of business deals in the process. And those men in there. They all just want the same thing as him. What kind of person treats someone like a bargaining chip to be passed around? And I'm expected to marry one?"

"Sounds like what you need is to get away from here."

"You think I haven't thought of that? My father would never just let me leave. Not if he can get something from me."

"I never said anything about getting his permission." Laxus tilted his head knowingly.

"You mean...Are you telling me that I should run away?" Lucy blinked up at him.

"I'm telling you that your current situation sounds like hell and you'd be better off far away from here."

"But where would I even go?" Lucy shook her head, almost laughing.

"If you're smart enough to want something better for yourself, then I'm sure you can figure something out," Laxus said pointedly.

Lucy's brow creased in thought. She wanted nothing more than to leave, but just vanishing without out a plan? Surely that could backfire in a myriad of ways. Was she really that desperate?

She glanced down at the brooch sitting in her lap.

Maybe she was.

She looked back up at Laxus.

"You think I can do it?" The softness of her own voice caught her off guard.

"You were ready to kill me with a fucking trinket a minute ago. Something tells me you'll survive." Laxus gave out a loud bark of laughter that diminished until it was just a deep rumbling in his chest.

"Miss Lucy?" A distance voice called from somewhere in the gardens. "Miss Lucy!"

"I told you they'd look if they needed me." Lucy quickly stood from her place on the ground.

"That's great and all but," Laxus stepped forward and when she didn't back away, flicked at a lock of her loose hair. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Oh, right." Lucy lifted up the front of her dress to show her bare feet. "And I kind of threw my shoes into the pond."

"Don't look at me." Laxus made a face at the pond in question. "I'm not a swimmer."

Lucy rolled her eyes at him with an amused huff.

"Well...If I can almost kill a man with a brooch, I think I can handle going back like this." Lucy gestured to her state of disarray.

She was sure to be carted off to be made presentable again anyway. When this moonlit conversation by the pond was gone and she back to the endless screaming of her own mind.

"I would say this is a step-down from attempted murder, yes."

Lucy slipped off the coat and passed it to Laxus.

"Thank you." She said. "I'll keep this in mind if I ever need a tent. Or a parachute. Or something to smother a bull with."

"You're hilarious." He drawled, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Miss Lucy!" The voice was much closer now.

"I should go." Lucy sighed.

Her life was calling her back and she wasn't so sure that she should answer. Could she really let it end here?

Lucy hurriedly pressed her brooch into Laxus's hand, careful not to prick him with the pin.

"Keep it encase you ever need to stab someone. I've got plenty more. Bigger ones."

"You're a danger to polite society." Laxus grinned wolfishly. "Keep up the good work. But try not to kill anyone."

"Miss Lucy!"

Lucy flashed Laxus a brilliant smile as she turned away.

"No promises!"


End file.
